


Rack 'em Up

by poor_dumb_killian



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma and Killian are professional pool players that both live in Boston and frequent the same pool hall. Emma had always found him insufferable. But when fate forces her to get to know the man behind the cocky attitude she starts to question everything she thought she knew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rack 'em Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lenfaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenfaz/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY LENA!! My present to you?? That's right, pool table smut! Huge thanks to Amy (Zengoalie) for editing for grammar and making my awesome picture header for Tumblr! Also a big thanks to Lady (the-lady-of-misthaven), Miranda (captain-k-jones) and Mona (o-u-a-timer) for helping shake my muse free. You ladies did too well because my muse wouldn't shut up once it got going! This is super, duper long. I couldn't stop. You'll just have to suffer through it... poor you ;)

Emma had gotten home the previous afternoon from a frustrating tournament. She had placed third due to a bad call that caused her to lose the rack. That left Mr. Perfect, Killian Jones, wide open to win.

She came home with the intention of taking a few days off from her favorite hobby-turned-career, but those plans changed when she got a call from her best friend, Ruby.

_“Emmmmmma!” Ruby whined through the phone, “I feel like I never see you anymore. You are supposed to be my best friend.”_

_“Oh, so you’re going with the guilt trip technique today?”_

_“I thought I would try that technique first… just because I love you.” Emma could hear the evil smirk on her friend’s face. “Because if this doesn't work, you will leave me no choice but to kidnap you and make you hang out with me.”_

_Emma laughed, “Really, Ruby?”_

_“Really, please don't make me kidnap you. That just makes me feel desperate.”_

Emma had begrudgingly agreed to an hour at the pool hall. Just a few games and a pitcher of beer, and then she would be back home in her yoga pants and oversized t-shirt.

She should’ve known better.

 

* * *

 

Killian walked through the doors of Flat Top Johnny’s, his favorite local pool hall, invigorated after returning home from a successful tournament. He had won, and it tasted that much sweeter with Swan as a his opponent. There was something about that fiery blonde that brought out his competitive streak.

At times, he found her so beautiful it made the rest of the world seem bleak and dull. In those instances, it seemed the whole world revolved around her and her radiant smile. But, she never smiled for him. Anytime her eyes landed on him, a scowl would immediately fix itself on her face.

He found her infuriating when they were competing against one another. They were both extremely competitive people, and it showed when tournaments came around. She was snarky and quick-witted.

She was a brilliant player. She had lost on a technicality and was forced to finish third. It was a minor foul, every player has made a wrong call on a shot at one point or another. He could picture clearly in his mind how furious she must’ve been when that cue ball went off kilter.

Truth be told, he was disappointed. He loved a challenge and going head-to-head against her in the final always proved an excellent test of his skills. They were equally matched players, which made games intense and interesting. It also made predicting the outcome of their matches nearly impossible.

He looked around the pool hall for his friends Dave, Rob, Victor and Will. They had insisted he meet up with them tonight to celebrate his victory. He finally spotted them in the back corner and made his way over.

“Ah! There ‘e is! The tournament champion!” Bellowed Will drunkenly from a barstool by the wall.

“Killian!” Dave clapped him hard on the back. “Nice of you to finally join us for a night out, _mate_.”

Killian chuckled and picked up the pitcher of beer and a clean glass. “Already butchering my accent, are we Dave? So I take it this isn't the first pitcher?”

“We may have enjoyed some… what does he call them?” Rob looked around all wide-eyed and overdramatic, “... _libations_? While we waited for you to arrive.”

“Aye,” Killian laughed shaking his head at their antics, “Guess I’d better venture to the bar for some rum to give me a chance to catch up. I will return shortly, gents!”

As he made his way over to the bar, he noticed a group of ladies enter and recognized them immediately as Swan’s friends.  He couldn’t help the smile that spread wide across his face. If her friends were here, she couldn’t be far behind.

A plan began to form. He would be sure Emma and her friends were stuck at the neighboring table.

Maybe he could get a rematch with Swan.

 

* * *

 

Emma was not quite sure how she got roped into playing a game against Killian Jones - in his house - but that was where she found herself six hours after arriving at the pool hall.

She had arrived at the pool hall to find her (traitor) friends chatting up Jones’ group of friends. She cursed herself inwardly for dragging her feet and arriving late to the hall. Maybe if she had hurried up she could’ve stopped whatever this was before it had started.

But, luck hadn’t been on her side... The group had already converged and there was no hope for Emma to stop it.

So, a few games had turned into hours of game play amongst the groups’ two tables. Then suddenly they found themselves with a pool hall about to close and a group of people (other than Emma, of course) not wanting the night to end.

“Ruby, I can’t believe you are making me go to my arch-nemesis’ house,” Emma whined petulantly from the back seat of the Uber ride.

“He is not your arch-nemesis, Emma. Stop being so dramatic,” Ruby tutted from the front seat.

Regina scoffed to her right, “Emma, that man is in love with you. And you two can’t stop making eyes at each other. It’s repulsive, really.”

“We _do not_ make eyes at each other. That is _ridiculous_ ,” Emma insisted. She didn’t like Killian. _She didn’t_. He was an over-confident, pompous ass. At this point she was convinced his sole purpose on this planet was just to infuriate her.

Ruby snickered from the front seat as Regina hummed “mmmhmmm” nonchalantly.

Emma huffed, “He’s an ass. I do not like him. But you two sure seemed to enjoy Rob and Victor.”

She couldn’t see Ruby’s face, but Regina averted her gaze. Not quickly enough, though; Emma saw her cheeks tinge pink in the glow of her cell phone’s screen.

Emma had gained what she had hoped with her comment: silence for the rest of the ride.

They pulled to a stop in front of a nice condo building. She moved to open the door when it suddenly opened for her.

“Hello, beautiful,” Killian said with his signature smirk.

He held his hand out to help her from the car, but she ignored it and moved past him.

“Since when are you such a gentleman?”

He raised his eyebrows at her and tilted his head to the side - she did not find it cute… _she did not_ \- “I'm always a gentleman, love.”

“I’d like to get inside before I sober up, mate.,” Rob piped up from the door behind them.

Killian finally turned his attention away from Emma and she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. “Oi, I can't help that you lack in chivalry, Rob. You could take a lesson from me, mate.”

“At least we made it this far. The same can't be said for Will,” Victor chuckled from the steps.

Emma laughed at the memory of pooling Will into his own Uber ride.

“I hope he made it home OK,” Ruby said.

Killian chuckled as he unlocked the door, “He's been worse-off and made it home in one piece. Worry not, lass.”

He swung the door open and stepped aside, gesturing dramatically with a bow, “Welcome to my humble abode, ladies. Please make yourself at home.”

Emma was thankful Killian was behind her and couldn't see her face as she took in his home. She wasn't sure what to expect, but this was a contradiction.

It was the typical bachelor pad with an over-sized, black leather sofa and a batman pinball machine in the living room. It opened into a large kitchen with dark countertops and a breakfast bar - the only place in the whole place to sit and eat. To her immediate right, double doors open to a den with his pool table.

Everything made sense, except for how sparkly clean it was. From the look of things, she was pretty sure she could safely eat off any surface in the house.

Regina whistled, “Awfully clean in here, Killian. I must say, I wasn't expecting that.”

Rob laughed, “Killian is a neat freak.”

“To the point of annoyance. You should see the man on poker night. I swear his head is going to explode one day,” Victor added with a pat to Killian’s shoulder.

Killian shuffled his feet and cast his eyes down, the tips of his ears were red as he sheepishly scratched behind his ear with his right hand.

Emma had never seen this side of Killian before. All his cocky demeanor was gone. It was adorable.

 _Wait… What?_ No No No… Not adorable. She couldn’t find him adorable. _Nope_.

“Habit from my days in the Navy, I’m afraid,” he mumbled to the floor.

“You were in the Navy?” The question was out before Emma realized it. She just barely stopped herself from clasping her hands over her mouth in embarrassment.

His eyes popped up to hers, “Never read my biography then, Swan? Yes, I was in the Navy for four years.”

For some reason Emma couldn't break eye contact with him. She hadn't allowed herself to learn anything about him; convinced he was a shallow man-whore not worth her time. Suddenly she found herself curious about the man with sapphire blue eyes standing before her - _and that was not good_.

Regina ended the silence, “Alright, if were done making eyes… where is the booze?”

Emma rolled her eyes at Regina, but didn't say anything because she was making eyes - _shit_.

Killian visibly shook his head clear, “Of course, sorry lass. Follow me.”

He led them to the kitchen and started putting together everyone’s preferred poison. Drinks in hand, they decided to play darts on the back porch.

Killian flicked a switch and green, blown glass bulbs lit up around the patio.

Emma couldn't hold in the snort.

“What’s so funny, Swan?” Killian said quietly enough that only she could here while the group settled onto the patio.

“Awfully girly out here, Jones. Let me guess, you bring all the girls back here to woo them.”

His right hand shot up and scratched his ear again as his eyes darted down. Emma wasn’t sure how she had missed this adorable tick of his before, but she was quickly beginning to love it.

_Wait - no - not love. She doesn’t even like Killian Jones. Since when did the word “love” enter her vocabulary when it came to him?_

“I - uh - well, I don’t ever bring girls here, love.”

She had never seen him stammer over his words. He was always so sure, so confident. She wasn’t sure what to make of this new side to him.

“Oh,” she managed to get out, unsure of what to say.

Rob broke the silence, “Are we going to play darts, or what?”

She had never been more thankful for an interruption.

They played a few games before Ruby and Victor wandered their way into the house. Ruby claimed she wanted to play pinball; Emma was sure her goals were slightly less PG.

 

* * *

 

Killian still couldn't believe his luck. When he saw Swan’s friends and arranged for them to be table-neighbors he had hoped for some banter with her. He had never dreamed of her coming back to his house and actually conversing with him.

He felt like a nervous school boy around her. He had admitted a while ago that he wanted her. It terrified him how much he wanted with her. He wanted a future, he wanted a life. But she had only ever given him two reactions: playful banter or disdain.

Tonight, though, she’s smiled and laughed. Her walls were still sky-high, but he could see a part of her peeking out.

All he could do was hope he didn't bugger it up by saying something wrong.

 _Hence the nerves_.

They had played a few games of darts. Victor had already escaped with Swan’s leggy friend, Ruby. He got a silent request from Rob for privacy and decided on a plan.

Time for a rematch.

“Well, Swan. What do you say we step inside, refill our libations, and play a round. It can be a rematch to the finale round that should’ve happened this week.”

She raised an eyebrow, challenge sparking in her eyes, “Are you ready to be whooped on your own table, Jones?”

He stood from his chair and bent down to offer his hand, “I’m not sure you could handle it, love.”

She rolled her eyes, but took his hand. He silently cheered in his mind. She had brushed off his hand earlier.

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn't handle it,” her eyes twinkled with mirth and he bit back a groan.

He wanted to respond, but found his brain non-functioning with her eyes dancing with happiness at him. So instead he guided her into the house and stopped when they noticed a silent pinball machine.

Emma chuckled to his left, “I knew it.”

“Seems Ruby and Victor found the spare bedroom,” he said.

She laughed, “You’d better hope they found their way to it, at least.”

Emma ran to the bathroom while he refilled their drinks. He decided to rack the balls for their game, and was nearly done when she walked in.

“Nice table, Jones,” she said as she walked around it.

He smiled. He had been incredibly particular when it came time to buy a table. He scoured the town looking for the one he wanted. This one, with it’s deep mahogany wood and ornate carving was perfect. He re-felted it with a rich shade of red.

He realized too late he was scratching his ear again. He thought he had overcome this nervous tick years ago, but apparently Emma had a way of bringing it out of him.

“Thanks, Swan. I looked for a long time for the perfect table. I’m pretty sure my mates were on the verge of murdering me by the end.”

She snickered as she screwed together her pool cue, “I can’t say I'm surprised after seeing your house.”

“Aye, I’m used to the jokes. The guys are relentless. It’s not my problem they live in filth,” he winked, trying to regain some control. He couldn’t let his walls fall too far, he couldn’t get his hopes up. “You can break, if you’d like.”

“Oh no, I dont need any favors from you, Jones. Your house, you break.”

He stepped into her personal space, and raised an eyebrow, “My house, my rules. And house rules say the person who racks the table can’t break.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t move to argue any further.

 _Success_.

She lined up the cue ball and bent over the table. She seemed to have an extra arch to her back and he had to bite back the moan.

He hoped she planned to torture him tonight. He was a glutton for punishment.

The balls snapped and she pocketed the 2, 9 and 12 - a solid and two stripes.

“Stripes,” she said with a bounce in her step as she walked around the table.

He watched her as she studied the ball placement. Her brow was slightly furrowed as she twisted her cue around in her hands. He could tell the moment she decided her move; her eyes hardened with determination and her lips pursed in thought.

During tournaments, if he had the chance, he loved to watch her play. She never noticed him; she was always too in the zone. Her eyes rarely left the table.

He noticed that now she seemed relaxed, enjoying the fun of the game and not the intense cutthroat stakes of competition; she actually smiled occasionally.

He loved her smile. He wasn’t sure when he became such a sap, but this bloody woman seemed to pull it out of him.

She lined up her shot, her cleavage on delicious display for him. He did his best not to look, but he was only a man.

“I don't want you to break your eyes trying not to look, Jones,” she said with a smirk. She pulled her cue back and hit the cue ball. The 15 ball bounced off the side bumper and landed soundly in the corner pocket.

She quickly knocked off three more balls - 10, 13 and 14 - before missing her attempt at the 11-ball.

“Finally giving me a chance then, love?”

“What can I say? I took pity on you.”

His heart race picked up, because - _that was definitely a flirty tone_.

 _Bloody hell_.

“Thanks for clearing all your balls out of my way, Swan,” he added a wink for dexterity and delighted when the apples of her cheeks tinged pink.

He quickly pocketed the 1, 3, 4, 5 and 7-balls. He hadn’t noticed her perusing the shelves on the far wall. There were pictures and trinkets... things he didn’t like to think about.

“Who’s this in the picture with you?” She asked with a curious crinkle in her brow.

He knew what picture she was talking about, but tried to postpone the inevitable. He would tell her, because he could never deny her anything, “What picture, lass?”

He bent down and lined up his shot, pocketing the 2-ball with ease.

Now they only had three balls on the table. One each and the 8-ball.

“You are both in uniforms. Look at you with your little baby face. God, you almost look innocent.”

He feigned hurt with a dramatic grasp at his chest, “You wound me, Swan. What makes you think I’m not innocent still?”

She laughed, and he was fairly certain a snort slipped past her lips, “Yea, sure. So, who is it? Is he family? He sure looks like it.”

He sighed and nodded his head, “Aye, that’s my brother, Liam.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother. You never talk about family.”

He bit his tongue, his usual tactic of deflecting not ideal when trying to get her to trust him. He almost said that he could say the same about her. There was nothing about family in any biography and she never spoke about anyone. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious.

“He died when I was 22; killed in action,” he gulped and tried to hold back the usual emotions that came with speaking about Liam.

“I’m so sorry, Killian.”

That got his attention, it was the first time she had ever said his first name. He looked up from his spot lining up his attempt on the 6-ball, for the first time he saw a glimpse of the woman behind the walls.

She knew loss; she understood it. His heart broke for her. She didn’t deserve to know the pain that he felt. She deserved all the happiness in the world.

He wanted to give it to her.

He lifted the corner of his mouth with a small smile, before looking back at the table and swiftly pocketing the 6-ball.

One more ball and he wins.

Hoping to continue his success in getting Emma’s trust, he decided to delve more into his painful past.

“He was five years older than me. Drove me mad, always calling me _little_ brother when I was the same bloody height.” Emma giggled and his heart skipped a beat. “My mother died when I was 12; breast cancer. My father stuck around for a few years, but couldn’t stand to be around me after Liam left for the Navy. He said I reminded him too much of her.”

He decided to line up the game winning shot, scoping out his best move while he continued, “So, when I was 15, he left. I went on for a couple of weeks on my own, getting myself to school and not raising suspicion. But I ran out of food and got caught shoplifting some kraft macaroni. CPS was called. Liam found out and got leave. He sorted everything out and took on the roll of my guardian. It was just me and him for years. I followed him into the Navy.”

He decided his shot and pointed to the corner pocket “8-ball corner pocket,” he called before pocketing the ball for the win. He hadn’t chanced a glance up at her since he delved into his sad tale.

“That picture was taken the day I graduated officer’s training. He was so proud, I was bloody mortified,” he chuckled and felt the tears start to burn at what was to come, “That was the last time I saw him in person. We spoke on the phone and over email, but that was the last time I hugged my brother.”

He took a deep breath and finally chanced a look up at her. She had tears welled in her eyes as she looked at the picture now grasped tightly in her hands.

“What happened?” she whispered softly.

He took a deep breath, “His ship was attacked while in port in the middle east. A hole was blown in the hull. My brother was in his quarters, which were in the blast zone. The bloody bastards killed him while he slept. He never even had a chance,” he looked away and quickly wiped the tears attempting to fall from the corner of his eye.

“Anyway, I lost it a bit. Drank heavily and womanized my way around. Trying to feel something… _anything_ after I lost him. I eventually got honorably discharged, thanks to a kind commanding officer who knew my history and understood I wasn’t handling the loss,” he finally chanced another glance at her and noticed tear tracks on her cheeks. He moved without thinking, gently wiping them away with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to dampen the mood. It’s not all bad. I moved to Boston and met a new group of friends. They became my new family and I make a living playing a game that I love.”

She didn’t shy away from his touch, and he silently celebrated another small step in the right direction.

“I understand what it’s like to not have family.” She sucked in a deep breath, he could tell she was debating internally about continuing her train of thought before she spoke again. “I was just wondering what was worse; never having a family, or having one and losing them.”

His heart broke for her as he realized the implications of what she was saying. He silently hoped she would tell him more, but he wouldn’t dare ask. He would let her decide.

 

* * *

 

She took a deep breath as she weighed the options to tell him more or leave it at that. He had opened up to her, she knew it must’ve be painful for him to dredge up those memories and tell her the story.

She was suddenly faced with the very real realization that she had unfairly judged him. She felt foolish for not seeing sooner that his cocky demeanor was nothing but his own version of walls.

The decision was suddenly easier than she thought…

So, she began, “I was an orphan. I was passed from house to house; never spending more than six months in one. Friends were hard to come by as the unloved orphan girl with ill-fitting clothes and an ancient backpack.”

The hand that had been cupping her cheek dropped and she momentarily panicked, her old self-loathing rearing it’s head. But then she felt the palm of his hand slip against hers as he linked their fingers and squeezed with his silent support.

“When I was 16 I landed in another horrible foster home. Some people just take kids in for the money and then spend the bare-minimum on them. The difference this time was the school, because I met Ruby. At first I resisted - history was against Ruby being genuinely interested in being my friend - but she was persistent.” She paused and chuckled as the memories came flooding in, “After a few weeks I found myself at her grandmother’s diner every night. Granny insisted on feeding me and grumbled constantly about the horrible people I was living with. When I was about to be moved again, Granny took me in. A year later she adopted me.”

She glanced up into his eyes and was woefully unprepared for the adoration she saw reflected in his eyes. She shifted, suddenly uncomfortable with the personal tone the conversation had shifted to, “I know I was only officially her granddaughter for 6 months before I became an adult, but I honestly dont know where I would be if I hadn’t given Ruby a chance.”

“I’m glad you found a family, Emma.”

He squeezed her hand one more time before releasing it. She immediately missed the feeling of his palm pressed against hers.

He quirked an eyebrow, “But I'm afraid I’ve won, love. Best two-out-of-three?”

She had been so lost in the conversation she had completely forgotten she lost. Determination set in as smirk spread across her face, “You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Killian lost the next game, but he couldn't say he was disappointed; it meant another round.

Conversation had gone on surprisingly easy after the painful memory rehash. They shared their mutual stories of how they learned to play pool. Eventually talked about how they met their group of friends.

She didn’t seem to be in a rush to get to round three of their mini-tournament, and he was nearly beside himself with all the possibility for what that meant.

He decided to push his luck, he knew there was no way she would go for it; but he just wouldn't be Killian Jones if he didn't at least try.

“What do you say we up the stakes for the last round, love?”

She quirked her eyebrow, “What are you suggesting?”

“Strip pool,” he said frankly, “Unless you can't handle it, that is.”

He knew she couldn't turn down a challenge.

She didn’t disappoint. She closed the space between them and smirked wickedly, “Im pretty sure you’re the one who couldn't handle it. You can't even handle a little cleavage.”

“Oh, I can handle it. You are just deflecting.”

“Fine, ground rules. One, I’m only going down to my bra and panties.”

He scrunched his face in displeasure, “What are we, school children? Come now, Swan, we’re adults. I’ll agree to keeping the panties, but not the bra.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Fine, you sink the 8-ball, I lose the bra.”

He licked his lip in anticipation, and was delighted to see her eyes dart down and follow it’s path.

“Deal, if you sink the 8-ball, I drop my knickers.”

“For the record, I am OK with you keeping those on, Jones.”

“Are you shy, love?” He couldn't help but grab one of her golden curls and twirl it around his finger. She was standing far too close for self-control, “Any other rules?”

“Yes. Rule two, we play left handed.”

He smiled, “That’s brilliant, Swan. Should draw out the stripping a little longer.”

“Exactly, it’s too easy otherwise.”

He felt like his body was vibrating with anticipation, he never thought she would go for strip pool. He thought the best case scenario would be her scoffing and telling him to fuck off.

“Rule three, I break... Deal?”

“Deal,” he held his hand out and she placed her palm in his. Instead of a shake, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Would you like to go refill our rums while I rack the table, lass? House rules say you can't rack, after all.”

“Fair enough,” she said with a smile as she grabbed their empty tumblers and made her way out of the room.

He was silently thanking whatever deity or force of nature brought them to this moment, because never in his life had he imagined his night turning into a chance to see Emma Swan in nothing but a small scrap of fabric.

He had never been so determined to win a game in all his life.

She returned as he put the triangle away, “Lock the door behind you, Swan. Just in case.”

She smiled again as she turned back around and closed the doors. He had never seen her smile so much and he found he never wanted her to stop.

“Alright, love. The balls are racked and ready to go.”

It was taking every ounce of his strength not to fidget. To say he was nervous was an understatement. Bloody hell did he want to win this game. He wanted to win this game more than he had ever wanted to win at a tournament.

She took her sweet time chalking her cue and deciding her cue-ball placement for the break. Playing lefty was going to make for some hilarious miscalculations by both parties.

Finally set on her game plan, she leaned down to line up her shot. The balls cracked and she pocketed two - a solid and a stripe.

“Well, Swan, does that mean we both lose clothing?”

She scoffed, “That’s not how strip games work, Jones. You lose a shoe, I pick solids.”

He couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face.

Typically someone would remove their shoes first, but Killian Jones was anything but typical. So, instead he started to unbutton his waist coat.

Her eyes grew comically wide, “What are you doing?”

His eyebrows shot up on their own accord as he cocked his head to the side, “Stripping. Isnt that the point of strip pool?”

She looked like a fish out of water as she searched for her retort, “Yea - well, but - you know - most people start with their shoes and get to the more interesting clothing later.”

Her cheeks turned more pink the longer she spoke and he felt himself fall even more in love with her. He had never seen her so flustered, and wanted to see how far he could take it. As he undid the last button, he stepped into her personal space. Her eyes followed the path of his tongue as he licked his lower lip and dipped his head down to whisper in her ear, “Well, darling, I'm pretty sure we have established I am not most people.”

He stepped back from her as he pulled the vest from his shoulders and threw it on the chair in the corner.

She hadn't moved from her spot, so he chuckled quietly under his breath before breaking the silence, “I believe it’s still your shot, love.”

She seemed to shake her head free from whatever thoughts had been plaguing her before shooting him a glare and looking back down at the table. “I know what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work,” she mumbled.

“Oh really? And what, exactly, am I doing?”

She hit the cue-ball and pocketed another solid before looking up, “You think if you take your shirt off I will be distracted. But I'm not so easily played, Jones. That may work on your bimbos, but it won't work on me.”

He chuckled as he moved to unbutton his shirt. “My, my, Swan… is that jealousy I detect in your tone?” She scoffed as she walked around the table, apparently determined not to pay attention to his strip-tease. “Believe it or not, love. I've never played strip pool.”

That got her to look up at him; curiosity written all over her face. He couldn't have timed it any better if he tried. The shirt slipped from his shoulders as her eyes reached his and she sucked in a breath; her eyes suddenly darting to anywhere but his bare chest.

She seemed to think playing her next shot was better than failing miserably at not ogling him. But she missed the shot and he chuckled, “Uh oh, Swan, looks like it’s my turn. Hope I wasn't unfairly distracting you.”

He winked at her before rounding the table and deciding his first move. He hoped she would try distracting him in a similar fashion, but knew she was much more likely to start with her boots.

He easily knocked in the 13-ball that was already teetering over the precipice of the pocket. The cue-ball bounced back to him, lining perfectly for another quick shot.

 _Three down - five to go_.

He grinned as he stood straight, “I believe you owe me two items then, Swan.”

She huffed as she sat down to remove her boots before standing back up.

“Seems a bit unfair, love. Shouldn't both boots count as one and then the socks as one?”

She rolled her eyes, “I only have on boots, socks, jeans, my shirt and my bra. You have 8 balls to clear and I have 7 items total.. do that math, Jones.” She tilted her head to the side and smirked at him - _bloody hell, that shouldn't do things to him_ \- “Unless the math is too complicated for you?”

He leaned into her personal space and twirled one of her golden curls around his finger again, “Oh, I assure you, I can count just fine. As I see it, I am five balls away from an extremely pleasant view.”

He winked once more before turning back to the table. He pocketed another ball before missing his fourth attempt.

He chuckled at her while she hopped around to take off one sock. She tossed it in the general direction of her boots, before taking a sip of her drink and scoping the table for her next move.

She pocketed two quickly before scratching on her third attempt. He quirked his eyebrow at her, “We didn’t discuss what we get when the opponent scratches.”

She scoffed, “You get the opportunity to choose where to place the cue ball, lucky you.”

“How very generous of you, love.”

“I do what I can… Now, you owe me two items, buddy,” she bit her lower lip as she grinned openly at him.

He bit back a groan, still unable to believe Emma Swan was smiling at him - _in his own bloody house_ \- before sitting in the chair to remove his boots.

He stood and made a show of stretching for his cue, he heard a scoff from his beautiful companion before she mumbled what sounded like, “Insufferable idiot.”

He chuckled as he walked around the table, “What was that, love?”

“Nothing, just make a shot already.”

“In a hurry to get naked for me, Swan?” He wiggled his eyebrows, “Not that I’m complaining…”

She scoffed again, “You wish.”

“You have no idea, love.” He pulled his cue back and the cue-ball slapped into his intended target, rocketing it into the side pocket. “Looks like you’re out of easy options now, darling.”

She mumbled under her breath, but he couldn’t hear what she said, before she leaned against the wall and pulled off her lone sock.

He easily found his next shot and fired the 15-ball into the corner pocket. He was on pins and needles wondering which she would choose - jeans or shirt. He honestly didn't know which he hoped it was; he was giddy about either option.

“What’ll it be then, Swan? Topless or…” he licked his lower lip and was delighted to see her eyes dart down to watch, “... bottomless?”

“You’re absolutely incorrigible, you know that right?”

“I’m aware, love. But that doesn't change the fact that you owe me an item,” he wiggled his eyebrows as he stood tall and crossed his arms. Trying desperately not to fidget. The anticipation was killing him.

She moved her hands towards the hem of her shirt - he felt his heart rate increase rapidly. She pulled it up agonizingly slow, creamy skin exposed inch-by-inch. Her adorable little belly button came into view and he smirked. But as soon as the bottom of her red bra - _bloody hell, is that lace?_ \- came to view, he felt his mouth go dry.

Her torso stretched deliciously as she pulled the shirt over her head. He felt his jaw go slack at the sight of her golden curls cascading chaotically over her bare shoulders. He could see the faint outline of her nipples through the red lace and his body reacted as expected.

He was torn. Part of him wanted to clear the table immediately just to get the last two items off the table. But the other part of him was enjoying this far too much and wanted to postpone the game’s end.

Just in case she cleared the table next, he decided one more ball was the best course of action. He found his target and easily pocketed the 9-ball.

He stood and grinned victoriously at her, “Off with your pants then, love.”

She crossed her arms in defiance; which only proved to enhance her cleavage. He bit back another groan and tried his damnedest to keep his eyes up.

“I have a freebie, this one should be my freebie.”

“Nice try, Swan. But you lost your freebie when you pocketed my ball on the break.”

She blushed furiously and he got to watch it spread down her neck and across the tops of her breast. He prayed to all the Gods ever created that this was not the only time he got to witness that wonder.

She was a bloody goddess, and he wanted to worship every inch of her delectable skin.

Her fingers quickly worked the button open and the zipper down. He caught a flash of red and his grin widened.

She rolled her eyes, “You look like the Cheshire cat right now.”

He shrugged and lifted his eyebrows, “Just enjoying the best view I’ve ever had, love.”

He meant it.

She paused her movements as she read his face. She had an uncanny ability to sniff out lies, but he knew the moment she realized he was telling the truth. She blushed an even deeper shade of red before looking down and shaking her head.

He finally moved towards her. He had been keeping a respectable distance, it was only good form, but he found himself unable to allow her to doubt herself.

“I know you saw I didn’t lie, Emma.” He finally reached her and hesitantly swept his hand up her cheek, cupping it lightly, “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And I'm bloody terrified that I'm going to wake up to find I've been dreaming this night up all along.”

She searched his face, her green eyes sweeping over back and forth between his eyes. A small smile formed on her lips as she leaned slightly into his touch.

His heart was pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it. He brushed his thumb over the apple of her cheek before whispering, “Now, how many times do I have to tell you to drop your breeches, Swan?”

She snorted out a laugh and he chuckled in response, “Way to ruin a moment, Jones.”

He licked his lip, her eyes once again following the path, and shrugged before stepping back, “What can I say? I’m impatient.”

He raised his eyebrows expectantly at her and she grinned before hooking her thumbs in the top of her jeans and slowly shimmying them down her hips. She sat down on the chair and pulled the tight jeans off her calves before tossing them on top of the pile with the rest of her clothes.

She stood and crossed her arms, “Happy?”

“Exceedingly so, yes,” he grinned wide, “You didn’t disappoint in the matching department.”

She scoffed, “Will you just make your next shot please?”

He bowed ridiculously, “As you wish.”

It garnered another eye roll before he returned his attention to the table.

He missed his next shot - _it may have been on purpose_ \- and gestured to the table, “All yours, milady.”

She mumbled something about a “bloody gentleman” and “bullshit” as she moved around the table with purpose.

She quickly pocketed two balls. There were only three balls left - 2,16 and the 8-ball - one ball each.

He sat in the chair and removed his socks. As he stood only clad in his jeans he said, “Now it get’s interesting, darling.”

She invaded his space, and it threw him off - _bloody hell_ _would she ever stop surprising him?_ \- “I only have one question for you, Jones?”

He raised his eyebrows high and tilted his head, “What’s that, Swan?”

She grinned deviously, “Are you ready to lose?”

“Honestly, love, I’ve already won and there’s no convincing me otherwise.”

He felt his face heat up at the admission; the complete truth felt raw. He had wanted her for a long time; he was fairly certain his heart was lost to her the moment she walked into the pool hall that first day many years ago.

Suddenly she surged forward and crashed her lips against his. He carelessly dropped his cue to the side as he grasped at her hip and pulled her flush against him. She gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Her fingers found their way into the hair at the nape of his neck and he groaned as she tugged gently before skimming her fingers down his neck and into his chest hair.

They finally broke for air and he rested his forehead against hers. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes; too afraid of ruining the moment.

“That was…” he whispered.

“Yea,” her breathy response was enough to give him courage to open his eyes.

She was biting her lip against a big grin, her eyes were glazed over and he couldn't help the chuckle, “Alright there, love?”

She laughed as she pulled away from him and grabbed her cue from it’s spot against the wall, “Let’s see about those pants of yours.”

 _Buggering hell_ , _please don’t be dreaming_.

 

* * *

 

She couldn’t believe she just kissed Killian Jones. She spent the last couple of hours reassessing everything she thought she knew about the man standing half naked across the table from her.

She thought he was a shallow, arrogant ass - and, technically, he was - but it turned out to be a well-maintained facade. The real Killian was broken and alone; she found herself unable to resist the ever-present draw between them.

She knew where this night was going to lead, and instead of the fear that usually accompanied the weight of their current situation, she felt excitement.

If his kissing skills reflected even a fraction of his other skills, she knew she was in for a great night.

With that thought bouncing happily in her head, she bent down to line up her next shot and easily rocketed the 2-ball into the corner pocket.

She walked back towards him, dragging her fingers along the lip of the table along the way, and bit her lip as she stepped back into his personal space. She leaned her cue against the wall before she hummed happily, “Hmmm, I think it’s my turn to say… _drop ‘em_.”

She saw the moment his self control snapped. He surged forward and pulled her to him with his hands cradling the back of her head. He pressed his lips against hers and she returned his enthusiasm as her fingers once again slipped into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

She moaned into his mouth as he firmly grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands and hoisted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her the two steps the the pool table.

He gently set her on the bumper of the table and she used her legs to pulled his hips flush with hers. It was his turn to moan as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. She could feel him hot and hard, pressed against her barely covered center. She was suddenly annoyed that he hadn’t dropped his pants.

She kissed down his jaw and scratched her cheek along his scruff as she trailed her nails down his chest. He shuddered under her touch as she reached for his belt.

She felt his breath on her neck as he chuckled, “Impatient, love?”

He kissed down her collarbone and felt goosebumps erupt across her skin as his stubble rubbed against her neck.

“It’s only fair,” she huffed out, “You owe me an item, Jones.”

“Aye,” his mouth continued a path south, kissing down the valley between her breasts.

Her fingers fumbled with his belt, unable to concentrate on what she was doing. He chuckled again and nudged her nipple through the lace with the tip of his nose.

She threw her head back and an embarrassing squeak escaped the back of her throat as he latched his lips around her right nipple through the thin fabric.

She temporarily abandoned his belt in a need to feel him, as she cupped and massaged him through his pants. He dropped his forehead against her chest and groaned as he pressed himself into her palm.

“ _Bloody hell_ ,” he mumbled into her breast as she moved her hands back to his belt, more determined than ever to get the damned things off.

He moved his hands up her back and expertly flicked open the clasp of her bra.

“Show off,” she grumbled as she finally released his belt and started her next obstacle: the button.

He nibbled lightly on her ear, kissed down her neck and over the top of her shoulder. He followed the path of her bra strap down her arm with a mixture of kisses and dragging his scruff tantalizingly across her skin. She shuddered under his touch as she felt him grin against her - _smug bastard_.

He dropped her bra to the ground as he pulled his upper body back to get a proper look at her. She had to fight the urge to cross her arms across her chest.

She had never felt so exposed. Her walls were down yet she wasn't terrified.

_Shouldn’t she be terrified?_

He brought his palm up and cupped her cheek again, she closed her eyes momentarily and pressed further into his touch.

He muttered “Beautiful,” as he thumbed at her chin. Then he lightly moved his hand from her cheek and down her neck, tracing a path with his fingers down her collarbone and through the hollow of her throat. He continued down her chest and used only his pointer finger to trace the bottom of her breast before grasping it firmly with his whole hand.

“ _Bloody magnificent_ ,” he whispered reverently.

She gasped as he lowered his mouth to her unattended nipple. He swirled his tongue around her hardened peak as she finally succeeded in opening his pants and tugged them down his hips.

She reached into his boxers and grasped him firmly in her hand. They groaned in unison, his forehead falling against her chest once more.

“Grab my purse,” she whispered, no longer willing to wait. She needed to feel all of him and she needed it now.

He looked confused but did as she asked without question. She quickly reached into the small side pocket where she always kept a condom, just in case, and tossed her purse to the side.

He chuckled as he finished stripping off his pants, “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy a woman prepared for any situation.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and beckoned him back over with her pointer finger, “You just never know when you’re going to find yourself pinned on a pool table by your arch-nemesis.”

Clad only in his boxers, he repositioned himself firmly against her aching core. He laughed heartily, “Arch-nemesis? Isn’t that a bit over-dramatic, Swan? At most, I'm a dashing scoundrel.”

She shook her head in disbelief, “You’re an idiot.”

She could feel how ridiculous her smile was, and she felt it widen even further in response to the look he gave her, “But I’m your idiot… If you’ll have me, that is.”

His eyes darted down and he scratched that spot behind his right ear. Her heart stuttered in her chest at the adorable man standing before her. He was so unlike the cocky asshole she had known before.

She kissed him then. It was a sweet, soft kiss. She hoped it conveyed the weight of her feelings, because she was unsure of what to say; she was so ill-practiced in relationships.

She pulled back before the kiss deepened further, “I'm not good at this, Killian.” She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, “I don’t do relationships.”

He nudged her chin up and forced her to look at him, “Neither do I, Emma. But I want to try, I want to try with you. We can figure it out together.” He smiled sweetly and nodded his head at her in question, “Yea?”

He looked so hopeful, she couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips even if she wanted to.

“Yea,” she said happily.

The smile he flashed her was so bright it rivaled the sun on a cloudless, summer day. Her heart warmed in her chest as she pulled him down to her. She kissed him thoroughly, exploring his mouth with her tongue.

He smoothed his hands down her back and ran them under the back of her underwear. He cupped her bare ass and kissed down her jaw as she hooked her thumbs into the top of his boxer briefs; he groaned into the throat as she shoved them down his hips impatiently.

“Emma,” he sighed as she took him in her hand and pumped slowly.

He rocked his hips in tandem with her a few times before urging her to shift her hips up so he could remove her panties.

She immediately heeded his request - lifting her hips slightly as he quickly pulled the fabric down her thighs.

“Don't be surprised if you can’t find those later, love,” he chuckled as he tossed them aside.

“You had better not, Jones. This is my favorite set and they are expensive,” she huffed out with a giggle as he latched onto her throat with his lips once more.

“ _Killian_ ,” she whined.

She felt his laughter vibrate against her skin before he released her and whispered, “Fair enough, but I expect a regular occurance of this captivating lace in my life from now on.”

“Awfully sure of yourself, Jones.”

He kissed her breathless again, before he pulled back with a smile on his face.

“Smug bastard,” she mumbled.

“Aye,” he whispered before running his hand up her thigh towards where she needed him most.

He dipped his fingers into her folds and moaned, “Buggering fuck, love. You are bloody soaked.”

She was too far gone to care anymore; desperate to feel him - to be filled by him.

“Killian, _please_ ,” she moaned, “I need you.”

She ripped the foil pack with her teeth and danced her fingers along the length of his shaft as she positioned the condom on the tip. His head fell to her shoulder once more as she rolled it down his throbbing length slowly.

She used her legs to pull him towards her and rubbed his tip through her wet folds before moving her hands up to hook around his neck.

The moaned in unison as he pressed into her. Her fingers grabbed hold of his hair as she whimpered his name.

“ _Killian_.”

Fully seated within her, he gently rocked his hips back and forth. He muttered “ _Bloody hell_ ’ into her neck before pulling nearly completely from her warmth and sliding back in slowly.

“ _Emma_ ,” he whispered reverently before kissing the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

“ _Please_ , Killian,” she begged.

He was pumping in and out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace. He pressed his lips against hers in a breath-taking kiss, slow and reverent to match his love making.

He pulled back for air and rested his forehead against hers, “What do you need, love?”

 _What did she need?_ She couldn't think straight... ecstasy clouded her mind.

“ _Everything_ ,” she whispered as he pulled back once more.

“ _You_ ,” she moaned while he slid back inside.

“ _More_ ,” she nearly cried out in desperation.

He heeded her need and increased his pace. She faintly registered the sound of balls cracking together as the table shook from the force of his thrusts; but all she could think about was the way he felt inside of her. The delicious drag of his cock against her fluttering walls as he pounded into her enough to elicit a plethora of colorful curses from her mouth.

“Touch yourself, Emma,” he groaned, “Let me see you touch yourself, love.”

She immediately obeyed his request, desperate for the release for which she was teetering on the precipice.

She gently circled her clit with her middle finger and he moaned in appreciation, “That’s a good girl, _bloody hell_.”

She was wound so tight it only took three more pumps before she tumbled over the edge.

Her body tensed as she gasped out his name, “ _Killian_ , fuck. Don’t stop. Don’t _ever_ stop.”

She continued to flutter around him as he pumped into her with increased desperation. A jumbled array of curse words and endearments fell from his lips in a constant stream as he careened towards his climax.

His hands clenched tighter into her hips - hard enough to bruise, but she couldn't find it in her to care - as his hips halted and he screamed her name.

She ground down against his hips to ride out the remainder of her orgasm as they both came down from their highs. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest.

If she had known it would be like that, she never would’ve resisted the man for as long as she did.

She snorted at herself internally. Of course she knew it would be like that. That was exactly why she fought it for so long. She was afraid she would never want to let him go.

And she was right; now she didn’t want to. But the amazing thing was... it didn’t terrify her.  

He interrupted their peaceful silence, “You know I can actually hear the gears turning in your head, love. I hope you aren’t talking yourself out of giving us a try.” He pulled back to look her in the eyes and tucked a piece of her bangs behind her ear, “After christening my pool table so expertly, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let you out of my sight.” He smiled sweetly before continuing quietly, “The thought of not being yours...”

He cast his eyes down, and she hated herself for letting him doubt.

She placed her hand on his cheek, “Hey, Killian, it’s not that… trust me.”

He looked up with a smile on his face. “Really?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow, “Then do tell, love.”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, “I was just thinking that I resisted you for so long because deep down I knew we would be - that it would be -” she suddenly flushed, unsure of how to word it without sounding like a dweeb. He grinned cheekily and tilted his head in a silent request to continue, “That was amazing and - not that your ego needs the boost - but I'm pretty sure I always knew it would be. So I avoided you because I knew I wouldn't be able to stay away once I knew… you know… what I was missing.”

She was beet-red by the end of her confession, but he just grinned sweetly at her.

“I’m glad you held out until you were ready to give me a chance, Emma,” he kissed her nose and she nearly melted at the gesture, “I'm not sure I could’ve taken it if I had gotten a taste of the happiness, but you ran.”

She kissed him, “I'm not going anywhere, Killian. But don't think I'll take it easy on you in the tournaments just because you provide my orgasms.”

“Oh, I wouldn't dream it, my love,” he said with a wink.

Emma still wasn't sure how she ended up playing pool with Killian Jones that night; but she sure was thankful for his sturdy pool table.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, my dear friend!! (I was even sure to include the protection, pet peeve avoided!) Have a beautiful day!


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